


Full of It

by Chianine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Creampie, Felching, M/M, Rape, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chianine/pseuds/Chianine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hydra medical technicians discover some peculiar physical conditions upon the asset's return to the laboratory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full of It

He's rolled over and laid face down on the table. The gloved hands of the doctor and his assistant move over his body, checking for injury. Misery being a constant in his existence, the asset was often confused by the personal damage report portion of his debriefings. Questions like, “Are you in pain?” went right over his head. Even if his reply was negative, it was best to give him a once-over before putting him back on ice. 

“What is _this_?” Klein's voice betrayed his alarm. He was spreading the man's buttocks and revealing a red, inflamed anus, the flesh swollen like the inside of a ripe grapefruit.

“Jesus,” Flint muttered, swallowing. 

Klein was looking at his assistant like this was his fault. “I thought you told me he wasn't injured,” the doctor said, not hiding his contempt.

“He said -”

“I don't care what _he_ said! You have eyes, and I find it hard to believe that a man with this kind of injury wouldn't be limping.”

Flint and Klein looked back down at the wrecked anus and simultaneously noticed the thin, milky stream dribbling out of it.

“What's this fluid?” Klein asked, circling his finger over the wet, swollen area. The body on the table stiffened but the doctor seemed not to notice. He rubbed the tips of his fingers together and then brought them to his face. After pulling down is surgical mask, he sniffed, then stared blankly into the distance for several seconds, still absently rubbing his fingers together. Snapping back suddenly from his trance, he pointed at the pair of buttocks on the table. “Look at him, Flint. Look at his muscles. He's clenching.”

A slight indentation of his haunches supported the claim.

“He thought we wouldn't notice,” Klein said, grinning smugly before replacing his mask.

As if he had just realized that he was the topic of discussion, the man on the table turned his head slightly.

“Relax yourself and cooperate!” Klein shouted, poking the subject's back. “Disobedience will not be tolerated. Flint, hold him open.”

As Flint splayed him, the asset did as he was told. The raw anus unfurled and more creamy liquid poured out.

“Good God! How much of that could he be hiding?” Klein took another sample with his fingers. Then to the subject he shouted, “Push!” 

A deluge spilled out, ivory and thick down the asset's bare testicles and pooling on the stainless steel below.

Klein laid his knuckles on the table and leaned forward, staring intently at the mess in front of him. 

“I've never seen anything like this before, Flint. Have you?”

He had, but he knew not to say where or why. “No, doctor. Never.”

“Well,” Klein threw his hands in the air, “however it got there, we have to get it out of him.” He sighed. “We can't afford someone else finding it next time they thaw him.”

“An enema?”

Klein gestured around the lab. “Does this look like a day spa to you?”

Flint shrugged.

“No, we'll just...” Klein gave another heavy sigh. “Just hold him open.”

Klein guided the subject's legs further apart and pressed a finger into the loose, abused hole. The subject squirmed and clenched around the intrusion as more fluid was forced out.

“You're only making this harder on yourself!” the doctor barked at the back of the asset's head. His body trembled as his muscles relaxed.

Further the doctor pushed, and more liquid escaped. “Disgusting,” Klein said to the squelching noises. He hooked and twisted his finger, pulling out several globs of the substance. The subject began whimpering and gripping the sides of the table.

“Damn it!” Klein exclaimed, pulling his finger out and slinging the thick fluid across the subject's fluttering hole. Then he slapped it in frustration, making the asset cry out for the first time. “I can't do this with him like this! Get his legs under him!”

Flint began guiding him up on his hands and knees, legs spread and rear end high in the air.

“What are you _doing_?!” Klein spat.

Subject and assistant both stared back dumbly at the irate doctor.

“You said to -”

“Do you think I want that filthy thing in my _face_? Look at it!” he thrust his finger at the leaking hole. “Get him down on his feet and bend him over!”

Klein watched as his assistant helped the asset down from the table like a knight leading his lady out of a carriage. The subject leaned himself over the table and Klein approached, gesturing irritably for Flint to resume his buttock-spreading. Then, supporting himself on the subject's back with one hand, he dug his finger back inside the anus. After much of the substance had been removed, he began rooting deeper with both his first and index fingers, exploring the cavity for more. He was up to his knuckles as his search intensified, and Flint noticed how the asset began writhing and rolling his hips. 

“I think that's most of it,” Klein mumbled, just as flute music suddenly filled the room.

“My phone,” the doctor said, rolling his eyes. “It's probably my wife. Give me a minute.”

Klein grabbed his phone off of a nearby table left the lab. Flint remained, but decided to give his arms a rest while he waited. The red prints he left on the asset's skin made him smile, especially with the fucked-out hole between them and the impossible amounts of come smeared across his back and thighs, glistening beneath the fluorescent light. He got his phone out of his pocket and took a picture, imagining how Agent Rumlow would laugh and wink and maybe start to think of Flint as one of the guys. The thought gave him butterflies. Maybe he'd even get invited out for drinks. 

Klein burst back into the room just as Flint was tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“I have to go,” the doctor said, red-faced and grinding his jaw. He pointed at the nude body. “Finish up. See what else you can get out of him, and then clean him up and put him in the tank. You know the codes, right?”

“Uh, yeah I think I got them in my -”

“Just call me if anything goes wrong,” he said, already walking to the door. 

Flint walked over to the desktop monitor and opened the security camera for the parking garage. He watched Klein get into his BMW and speed away. On his way to lock the lab door, he was happy to see that the asset hadn't moved a single inch since Klein had left.

The assistant took off his gloves and walked back over to the prone body. He coated two fingers in semen and began rubbing it in like ointment over the broken flesh of the anus, feeling the scabbed and torn texture on his bare fingertips, visualizing the acts that had caused it. It wasn't unheard of for the teams to insert foreign objects into him, things that made Flint tremble in horror and sick excitement. He usually didn't believe the stories but when you saw things like this...

“What did they put into you?” he asked shyly, but only got a slight movement of the head in response. It's not like he would know. He probably just bent over and took it, listening only for direct orders as he tried to ignore the pain. Flint wondered if they laughed as the watched his body stretch and crack open and bleed. He imagined the asset's face sweating and his body heaving with heavy breaths, trying to contain the pain the way he had been taught for field injuries. 

Field injuries - is that what he thought he was sustaining when his own team was shoving vodka bottles up his ass? Was he telling himself this was for the good of Mother Russia or Hydra or world peace or whatever ideology his current commander was feeding him? He had to know that it was wrong but his mind was too weak to stop it. He knew nothing about life except death, pain, and torture. It must not surprise him that he was expected to take as much as he gave. 

“You're pathetic, you know, letting them do this to you...” 

The asset dropped his head on the table, conceding and allowing more punishment. Flint let his fingers slip inside, feeling the remnants of what the team had left behind. Most of it had been wiped all over the asset's ass and thighs, which Klein had been using like a dirty rag, but he was still almost soupy inside. It really was filthy. Flint had been half-hard with Klein in the room but now his body was thrumming with a need that made him feel reckless. He got on his knees, the mess on the floor forgotten, and pressed his lips around the asset's entrance. He could taste the men who had been there. His tongue ran over the torn outer flesh and pushed easily inside. He moaned at the thrill and felt the vibrations of his voice spreading through the asset's body as he worshiped the abuse it had endured. 

Flint's cock was in a state of desperation. He freed it from his pants and took it in hand. He knew it wouldn't take much. Struggling to his knees, his heart beating rapidly, he rubbed it haphazardly around the asset's hole, coating it in saliva and semen, even letting it slip lazily inside a few times before the thing started shoot fresh come, bright on the sticky, overused ass.

The asset had barely moved the entire time. In the bright cabinet opposite him, Flint could see his reflection. A look of confusion, almost horror was on his face, as if he had no idea what had just happened to him. Flint had been the first one to do that to him, he realized, and shame suddenly made him feel sick.

Flint backed away from the table and stumbled to the sink, switching it on and somewhat soothed by the drone of running water. The taste of semen was nauseating, and mouthfuls of water wasn't getting rid of it. He splashed water on his face, scrubbing angrily at the stickiness with his palms, and realized that his fly was still open. He shut the water off and began tucking and zipping, when he heard a thud on the lab door, and Klein shouting angrily.

Terror flooded him. He ran to the door and fumbled with the locks, finally opening it to Klein's infuriated face, looking him up and down.

“You're soaking wet.”

It was true. Flint wiped a hand across his dripping face. Klein's expression went from anger to disgust.

“What the hell have you been doing, Flint?”

“Well, I -”

“Just let me in, for Christ's sake...” Klein pushed passed him and entered the lab. Flint followed close behind and collided with him when he stopped in front of the asset. He waved a hand over the scene. “I told you to get him cleaned up.”

“There was still a lot in there,” Flint said, a tremor in his voice as he smoothed droplets of water into his shirt. “I've been, you know... it was a lot, and ...”

Klein walked up behind the body just as Flint remembered how bright his own fresh semen had looked on the asset's skin. It was too late. Klein stared down at the bare ass and squinted.

Flint stood frozen and breathless until Klein's eyes returned to him. “Clean him up,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “I'll be in my office. Do it quickly, understood?”

He forced himself to nod. As Klein walked off to his office, Flint turned his head and thought he saw the faintest curl on the asset's lips, but it fell away before he could be sure it was ever really there.


End file.
